headshot
by rAnsomedrOgue
Summary: Injury and recovery, Kurt and Jane style. Set in s4, somewhere between 4x17 and 4x21.
1. Chapter 1

A/N This was written for lurkingwhump, which should indicate the amount of pain and angst involved... Six chapters in total with a Kurt and a Jane POV in each. Plan is for weekly drop on Saturdays.

###

It happens in a flash. A moment he can never unsee.

Weller and Jane are searching a warehouse for illegal weapons when they come across four terrorists and end up in a face off where they're outnumbered two to one, with no back up on the way. They both manage to pull their weapons first but can't aim at two targets at once. The terrorists recognize their advantage and start to spread out slowly, making it even more difficult for Kurt and Jane to keep them all in view.

Weller is scanning the room for any solutions when he sees a quick movement in his peripheral vision, yells to warn Jane about the goon attacking her from behind. Unfortunately, that distracts him for long enough that he is also rushed by the largest of the criminals, gets tackled to the floor.

Kurt responds automatically, punches his assailant in the head while trying to get his gun hand free. He's rewarded with a fist to his orbital bone, then an elbow to the sternum. Still, he's managed to keep his weapon in hand, just needs to wrestle himself into a position where he has enough space and angle to shoot the man that's currently trying to choke him to death.

Weller squirms under the grasp of his huge opponent, barely able to breath. He can feel himself start to get lightheaded as he struggles to get his gun hand free. The situation gets close to desperate as his vision starts to grey out, his body burning for air. Kurt puts everything he has into one final effort, somehow manages to wedge his gun under his opponent's gut and pull the trigger.

Almost immediately he is crushed by the dead weight of an enormous man, still finds himself scrambling for air even without the pressure on his windpipe. Weller pushes himself up a bit to catch his breath, still half stuck under his unconscious assailant. He takes the time to look around and assess the situation, sees two things at once.

One, that Jane is doing fine, had already knocked one her guys out and was about to take down her second attacker, winding up to deliver a final kick. And two, that he is about to get shot in the head by the last of the terrorists unless he can escape his current conundrum.

Kurt pushes hard against the weight draped all over him, just manages to free himself when it all happens at once.

Jane is about to tackle the guy aiming his gun at Weller when a fifth man steps through the doorway behind her and swings a metal pipe right at her head. Kurt hears the dull ringing thud of metal on bone as he scrambles to his feet, sees Jane fall, clearly already unconscious before she even hits the ground.

He resists yelling out, hollering her name despite every cell in his body screaming for her. Tactically it's the right move as both goons turn to watch Jane hit the floor and forget about Weller for the moment. He easily shoots them both while they're distracted, then somehow resists the urge to murder the man who had struck Jane. Quickly he secures all the still-living criminals and calls for EMS before hurrying to his wife, his heart in his throat.

She's still out cold, which wasn't surprising considering how hard she had been hit, then the way she'd struck the ground. Weller winces and pushes back angry helpless tears as he pictures it in his mind. He knows it's not the time to freak out, let his emotions take over. Even if he can't stop it from playing on repeat in his mind. Even if it breaks his heart to see her lying there unconscious, blood flowing from a wound left by the broken piece of piping.

"Jane!" he yells, shaking her on the shoulder. "Jane, wake up."

When he gets no reaction Weller double checks that she's breathing, that she has a pulse. Thankfully she seems to be breathing normally, her heartbeat steady. He then quickly takes off his tactical vest and his shirt, uses it to stem the blood running from her wound.

Once he's got the bleeding under control Kurt tries to rouse her again, calling her name, pleading with her to wake up over and over until it's clear she's not going to just get up right away like usual. Jane's normally so resilient, manages to dodge serious injury despite taking on multiple opponents at once. But this time she hadn't been able to protect herself at all, had been too distracted by trying to save him.

Weller gazes down at his wife with panicked eyes. Her head is already beginning to bruise and swell where she was hit, blood still leaking from her wound. Now, the tears are starting to form as his anxieties flare. The last time he'd watched her fall to the ground he had almost lost her to ZIP poisoning, the re-emergence of her former personality. Of course this situation is completely different, the result of an injury and not an invisible, insidious disease. And rationally Kurt knows that the ZIP is no longer a problem, that Jane is as much herself as she ever was. Yet seeing her laying there unconscious still triggers the fuck out of him, makes him massively freak out. Even more so than just the regular panic of seeing his wife's skull get bashed in with a piece of metal, not being to wake her up.

He caresses her face, keeps putting pressure on the wound while mentally begging her to open her eyes. Weller desperately wants to just pick her up, curl her up in his arms and kiss everything better. But he knows that he can't risk moving her spine when she clearly has a head injury, possibly a neck injury as well. All he can do is follow first aid procedure, kneel behind her while stabilizing her spine. Stare at her from above and murmur sweet encouragement at her; trying to convey all his love and concern through his voice, his touch.

###

Consciousness fades in, dark and roaring.

Her head is cracked, throbs with overwhelming pain.

She knows this feeling, hates it intensely. The pulsating scream in her skull, the never ending headache. For a moment Jane thinks it's back, that the cure didn't work. Then she realizes that she's injured and bleeding, that her head hurts both inside and out. She reaches for the pain and finds Weller's hand instead, his familiar fingers intercepting hers and bringing them back to the floor.

She wonders what happened, her mind still fuzzy. Distantly she hears Kurt calling her name, his voice dripping desperation. She wonders what's wrong, why he's so upset. Forces herself to finally open her eyes and finds that she's staring up at him, right into his terrified blue irises.

"Jane!" he breathes, his voice half relief, half concern. "Hey."

He runs his thumbs over her cheekbones, caresses her so lovingly that she tries to reach out for him, only to realize that he's holding her immobilized in c-spine. Which means he thinks she hurt her neck in whatever happened. But she only feels pain in her head, which isn't being helped by lying on a hard metal floor.

Jane tries to sit up, feels Weller gently push her back to the ground.

"It's okay, Jane," he says soothingly. "Just stay down until the paramedics come. You got hit in the head really hard and then you fell. Do you remember any of that?"

Jane frowns, flashes of the fight sparkling in her mind before everything becomes piercing white, bores into her screaming skull. She screws her face up in agony, brings her hands to her temples and tries to squeeze the feeling out of her head.

But the pain doesn't stop, gets to the point where she feels vertigo even with her eyes closed. Then all of sudden her body tells her it's an emergency and she manages to haul herself off the floor, propelled past Kurt's restraining arms by urgent waves of nausea. Jane only makes it about two feet away before she throws up the meagre contents of her stomach, then continues to dry heave and spit up acid.

Weller comes up beside her as she's ejecting another round of bile, saliva dribbling from her chin and coating her hair. She tries to push him away, disgusted at her own state. But of course Kurt drapes himself all over her, rubs her back and cleans her face off tenderly.

"Sorry," she mumbles, sure she needs to apologize for something.

"Hey, it's okay. I know you don't feel good," he whispers in her ear. "You should lie down again. I'm still worried you injured your neck."

Jane shakes her head against his chest, doesn't want to lie on the cold floor. Not when she has Kurt there, could be warm and secure in his arms instead.

"I don't want to lie down, my neck feels okay," she says. "I just have a headache."

It's the truth, or at least some of it. She doesn't tell him that the pain is blinding, that her vision is still screwed up, that her guts are still in upheaval. Partly because she doesn't want to admit it to herself, that she messed things up by getting hurt. But mostly because he is clearly already worried enough, his eyes ablaze with concern.

Weller sighs, scrutinizes her with a deep furrow in his brow.

"Yeah, I bet you do," he replies, his tone coated in empathy. "I'm so sorry. I'm pretty sure he fractured your skull."

Well, at least that would explain how she feels, Jane thinks. But she wonders why Kurt is so sorry, other than the fact that they're both covered in her puke, that he has to deal with her injured self. Of course he acts like he's happy to do it, like it's a privilege to take care of her even when she's spewing all sorts of gross bodily fluids.

Jane cringes at the thought, tries to pull herself together enough to act more normal, stop freaking Kurt out. She takes a few deep breaths then tilts her head up to look at him, apologize for worrying him. But of course right then everything starts to spin horribly again, this time to to the pulsating stabbing beat in her head. And all she can do is shut her eyes to the world, grind her jaw in protest.

"Hey, hey, Jane," Weller soothes, his breath warm against her skin. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

She trusts Kurt. But she is not even close to okay, feels shivery and weak throughout her body.

"Come here," he says, tugging her with him as he settles back against a wall.

Weller sits with his back to the wall and Jane finds herself facing him, securely ensconced between his legs. His arms are wrapped around her shoulders, her head snuggled into the crook of his neck. Her eyes are still closed tight, as if that will fend off the relentless pain. He rubs her back soothingly, repeatedly tells her she's going to be fine, that he's going to take care of her.

Of all the things she knows, that is a fundamental truth. Kurt will always protect her; will stop at nothing to keep her safe So Jane lets herself huddle within his grasp, be cradled in the warmth of complete security. Breathes in his scent and tries to find shelter from the pain.

The crack in her skull doesn't let her rest but Kurt's touch, his steadiness brings her a small measure of relief. She loses all sense of time, drifts on the comfort of his voice. Settles into her husband's warmth until they're found like that by Zapata and Reade and EMS services; Jane securely tucked into a half-dressed Weller, both covered in her blood.


	2. Chapter 2

The hospital hallway outside of radiology is eighty-four steps long, takes approximately thirty-seven seconds to cover in each direction. Weller has already completed the circuit over a hundred times while he waits for a machine to take pictures of Jane's head, tell him how badly she's been hurt. And the entire time all he can see is a jagged piece of pipe cracking her skull, his wife falling to the ground helpless.

Whatever the result, he knows it's entirely on him. It was his guy Jane was after when she got hit, it was his failure at securing his own two men that led to this. Not only that, Weller is sure that he should have seen the extra guy coming, warned her in time.

So he just keeps repeating it over and over in his mind, picking out all the ways he should have done better. She's his partner, both in life and at work. Which means it's his job to protect her and he's done a shit job of recently, has almost lost her way too many times. To ZIP poisoning, to Remi, to her own memories, to a psychopath that buried her alive.

Weller grinds his jaw, balls his hands into fists and resists punching the walls in frustration. Not that hurting himself will do anything to help Jane. But it would momentarily satisfy the anger in him, the desire to punish himself for his failure.

Still, not a very good reason to destroy property. And Jane would give him shit for it afterwards, would be far from impressed if he lost it and broke his hand while she's the one suffering.

With great restraint Kurt manages to keep his balled up fists away from any likely inanimate objects, settles for another round of pacing and self-blame to cope with his nervous energy. He desperately tries to keep all the worst case scenarios out of his mind by telling himself that Jane was conscious and responsive, that she's extremely resilient. Yet again and again he sees the metal bar striking her, blood leaking from her head.

Weller's so lost in his personal purgatory that he doesn't even hear her at first, the soft steps of her slippered feet hidden within the other noises in the hallway.

"Kurt," she says quietly as he's walking away, embarking on another lap.

Weller snaps to attention, turns and hurries to her, grasps her hand tightly. Jane is dressed in just a hospital gown, looks pale and exhausted standing there. But at least the cut on her head has been stitched and bandaged. And she's had a chance to clean up, is no longer covered in blood.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asks, directing her to sit down. "Did all the tests go okay?"

Jane gives him a little shrug and a nod as he settles her into one of the waiting area chairs, then sits down beside her. She shivers when he pulls her towards him so Kurt drapes his jacket over her shoulders before wrapping her up in his arms, leaning her face into his chest.

"Warmer?" he asks softly, right up against her ear.

Jane nods again, falling into him tiredly.

She looks so fragile and ashen, his deadly wife. He doesn't like it at all, brings back too many recent memories of being at the hospital, watching her fade away. He had never been more scared, more desperate in his life. So everything about being at the hospital again makes him extremely tense, caught up in freezing fear.

"So, what did the doctor say?" he asks, unable to wait any longer. He needs to know she's going to be okay, that his traumatic fear can abate. Also, he just wants to hear her voice.

"She's going to update us on the test results as soon as possible," Jane mutters against his shirt.

Weller takes a breath, tells himself to be patient. Though it's near impossible to sit and wonder if his wife is bleeding in her brain, how badly her skull was injured. A large part of him wants to march into the testing room and pull out his weapon, demand answers. But he puts aside his ridiculous anxious desires to be there for Jane, hold her as she shakes with exhaustion. He kisses her adorably messy hair, tries to ignore the dried blood still sticking to her scalp.

"How's the headache?" he asks, even though he can tell it's bad from the way her forehead is clenched.

Jane grumbles into his chest, makes a pained throaty sound that makes his heart melt. It's not like her to admit to hurting and he treasures her vulnerability in the moment, that she trusts him to keep her safe.

"Oh love, I know it hurts," he says sympathetically. "Do you want me to see if they'll give you some more painkillers?"

Jane shakes her head, snuggles into him even more tightly. Weller doesn't argue, just rests his chin on top of her head and rocks her gently. Starts running his thumb up and down her neck soothingly, murmurs things into her hair.

"Everything's going to be okay," he tells her, over and over. "I've got you."

Eventually some of the tension slips from Jane's body as he runs his hands lower, down over her spine. Then he drifts his fingers gently all the way back up through her hair until she makes a little satisfied grunt. Kurt smiles to himself, pleased he can at least do this for her.

Jane eventually starts to breathe longer, more languid breaths until finally she's lightly snoring into his chest. Weller looks down at her sleeping, feels her breath hot up against his shirt. Despite all the trauma and all the worry, his heart melts and he beams at her, brushes his lips against her temple.

"You just rest, Jane," he whispers to his incredible wife, the love of his life.

"I'll take care of you."

###

She wakes to a ringing noise, wetness on her cheek.

And still that crushing feeling in her head, the never abating throb.

Jane tries to blink away the pain but it doesn't go anywhere, just screams from within her skull. It doesn't help that her eyes open to fluorescent lights that seem much too bright and shoot lasers directly into her bruised brain.

For a moment she resists consciousness, burrows into the familiar warmth of her husband. Even though she's a bit uncomfortable in her position, her neck kinked awkwardly. It's still so reassuring to be asleep against him, know that she's got someone to hold onto.

Kurt is running the tips of his fingers along her spine and it almost distracts her from the pounding in her head, the dizziness she feels when she opens her eyes. Jane sags into him, wonders why his shirt is soggy. Then cringes with embarrassment when she realizes it's her own drool, forces herself to finally lift her head up.

"Hey," Kurt says, using his hand to support her head, then bringing it down to hold her jaw lightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she grumbles, closing her eyes to the irritating light. "I just want to go home."

"I know," he replies sympathetically. "The doctor should be back with your test results soon; it's been about thirty minutes."

Jane groans. She's done with waiting, wants to just curl up in their bedroom and bear her pain away from the incessant light and noise.

"Please, Kurt," she whines. "I'm fine. Just take me home so I can sleep."

She hates the pitch of her voice, how pathetic she feels begging him for something that she knows he can't give. There's no way he would let her leave without the doctor's okay, he wouldn't be Kurt Weller if he did. But she's still so exhausted even after napping on his chest and the goddamned pain in her head that just won't go away is making her extremely irritable.

"Hey, it's okay," he says, rubbing her neck again. "I know you're frustrated and you don't feel good. The doctor's going to come soon and then we'll go home as soon as possible."

Which is Weller-speak for we'll go home when the doctor says so. Even though he is a goddamned hypocrite about hospitals, always signing himself out when he shouldn't.

Jane groans, is pretty sure that the doctor is going to want to admit her. Which means that she's going to have to argue about it with Weller when she already feels drained and overwhelmed. Irrationally she just wants to take off, can't bear to hear bad news, to upset Kurt any more than she already has by being cranky and concussed. Which is nonsensical because obviously he would really flip out if she were to actually try and leave without knowing what's wrong with her.

So she quells her impulse, tries to concentrate on the feeling of Kurt's thumbs, making soothing patterns on her skin. Jane breathes him in, does her best to ignore the terrible feeling in her head.

Eventually, the doctor comes to discuss her CAT scan and the results of her neurological tests with them and Jane has to unfold herself from Kurt's arms, try to look alert and competent, capable of going home. At first, things sound promising; there isn't much swelling in her brain despite the trauma to her skull. But then the doctor goes on to say that she suspects a hidden basal skull fracture along with the regular linear one they found, that she wants to admit Jane for at least a day to monitor her for additional symptoms.

Jane's heart falls, crushed at the thought of lying in a hospital bed, Kurt stuck sleeping in a chair beside her. Because obviously he would stay with her unless physically removed, regardless any discomfort to himself. And she's sure it will all be pointless, that she will be fine despite the results of the tests. She just has to go home sleep in her own bed, draped in Kurt and everything will get better.

"No, I'm not staying," she states firmly. "I can be monitored at home. I don't need to be in the hospital."

"Well yes, it is precautionary but standard procedure in this type of case," the doctor says. "And if there's any increase in the swelling we could need to treat it immediately or else you'd be at risk for seizures, vision loss."

It's like taking two psychological bullets, right to the gut. Jane shakes, stunned by the trauma of the memories. She can see that Kurt is hit as well. He is visibly shaken, gripping her hand much too tightly.

She doesn't remember the first seizure she had, just being extremely confused afterwards, seeing the look of abject panic on Kurt's face. She had made him tell her the dirty details even though it had obviously hurt him to recount what he saw, how she had screamed and convulsed repeatedly, lost control of her bladder. She had to know what had happened, what she had subjected him to.

Jane's frozen in the past, unable to continue her defense of going home even though she is still certain it's what she wants. Yet, as frustrated and upset as she is, she's still very aware of Kurt, how much this whole thing must be triggering him too. He had already been through so much because of her and now she was going to upset him yet again by arguing with him, refusing to take no for an answer.

Jane struggles for words, how to explain her needs without angering her overprotective husband. But she feels lost, out of sorts without Kurt's usual unfailing support. So she tries to tell him with her eyes, the frantic way she grasps his hand.

I need you to take me home, she pleads silently. But I don't want to fight with you.

Sometimes she thinks Kurt Weller is a miracle, only meant for her. This time it's because he squeezes her hand reassuringly, looks at her and mouths 'don't worry, I've got this'.

"We've both spent too much time in hospitals recently," he says to the doctor. "And Jane's going to be a lot more likely to rest well and recover at home. I'll be there to monitor her the entire time and she's going to be extremely truthful if any of her symptoms worsen. If anything happens we will be back here in minutes."

He gives her a stern look when he says the bit about her being truthful about her symptoms and Jane feels a stab of guilt remembering how much she'd been hiding from Kurt back when she was sick. She wonders if it was his intent, a solid tactical move on his part. He'd certainly won her over completely in a single moment. She never thought that he would hear her wordless plea, take on her battle for her. Now she certainly can't lie to him about anything, despite her inclination towards hiding her hurts.

Jane offers him a grateful expression, a breath of pure relief. The doctor still looks skeptical but unwilling to argue with both of them so she gives Weller a bunch of information on what to watch out for and then resigns herself to getting discharge papers drawn up.

While they're waiting for the paperwork to be finalized, Kurt pulls her towards him and wraps her up in his arms, holds her tight. It's moments like these she thinks surely he's too good for her, will see it himself any minute. After everything she's done to him, all the pain he's been through with her. He saved her, like he always does.

"Thank you," she says, shuddering involuntarily. She wants to say more, properly express how much she appreciates him but words still aren't coming to her fatigued brain.

Of course Kurt doesn't need anything more, seems happy to just kiss her on top of her head, breathe into her hair.

"You have to promise to be honest with me," he whispers against her ear. "It's your brain, Jane. It's what makes you, you."

Yeah, what made me a stellar child soldier, successful terrorist, mastermind of a scheme to kill millions. Sometimes this is the way her thoughts turn now that she can remember it all. And at the moment Jane can feel them sway vividly, seemingly uncontrolled by her broken neurons.

But when she tunes back into Weller's voice he's still going on about what he loves about her brain; his current musing some sappy comment about how he admires her artistic side, how she constantly makes him look at things in new ways.

He is entirely relentless, absolutely adorable. So of course she lets him convince her and promises him the truth. Steeps in the comfort of his arms, falls in love with him for the millionth time.


	3. Chapter 3

He brings her home, absolutely terrified that he's doing the wrong thing. It went against all his inclinations to ignore the doctor's recommendations, especially when she mentioned seizures, vision problems.

Something broke in him the day he saw Jane have that seizure. Weller knows it's a trauma that he will always carry with him. His wife, thrashing about wildly, losing control of all her bodily functions. Her eyes rolling back terrifyingly, her beautiful body wracked with violent spasms.

The thought of that happening again due to his bad decision makes his heart palpitate, his neck clench. But he just couldn't bear to battle with her at the hospital, not when she had looked at him with such desperation at the same words. He knew what she was going through, the memories it brought back. If he had insisted that she stay, he knows she would have given in eventually. But not until she'd fought him with every last ounce of her meagre energy supply, which would have been too heartbreaking to bear. So he had saved them both the grief, in exchange for a promise that he's not sure she's able to keep.

It's frustrating, but Kurt understands her need to hide any perceived weakness, that it's so ingrained it's almost not a choice. At least Jane is not nearly as bad about it as Remi was, will sometimes admit to her pain, take comfort in him.

Case in point, the way she's blindly nestled herself under his arm on the way up to their apartment, letting him guide her home. He can feel how tired she is from the sag of her body, how she snuggles her aching head into him. And after all this time he still considers it an honour when Jane lets him see her wounds, comes to him when she's hurting.

Weller opens the door and feels Jane breathe a sigh of relief as they step inside.

"Glad to be home?" he teases gently.

Jane makes a small agreeable noise as he helps her out of her jacket, then sits her down and starts removing her boots for her.

"I can take off my own shoes, Kurt," she mumbles, sitting back on the couch with her eyes shut tight.

"I'm sure you can," he replies. "But please just let me do it for you."

Jane doesn't resist any further and Weller grins to himself as he unlaces her boots. It's a strategy he's used with her before - make it seem like she's the one doing him a favour by letting him help her. It's certainly been more successful than trying to convince her she doesn't have to take everything on by herself.

Once her feet are free Kurt asks Jane if she wants dinner even though he's pretty sure she won't. She's been nauseous the entire time and is extra resistant to eating whenever she's sick. But he has to do his due diligence as a partner, make sure he's covered all her possible needs.

"No food," Jane replies predictably. "I just want to go to bed."

"Okay then," he says. "Let's put you to bed."

He holds out his hand to pull her up off the couch and into their room; then sits her down on the bed to help her undress. When she's down to a tank top and undies Jane drops her head to her pillow and curls up, her face still tight with pain. Weller tugs the duvet over her and tucks her in securely.

"Better?" he asks, planting a kiss on her temple.

"Mmm," Jane murmurs, her tone half relaxation, half pain. "Go eat something, your stomach's growling."

Weller cracks a smile, both at the truth of her observation and at her concern for him, despite how much she's hurting. Really she's right, he should eat and shower before going to bed, needs to take care of himself if he's going to be of any use to her. But the thought of letting her out of his sight for even a moment makes him irrationally tense.

"In a minute," Kurt replies, climbing into his side of the bed. "Just want to make sure you get to sleep first."

Jane groans, gives her head a tiny shake.

"M'not gon sleep," she mutters. "Hurts too much."

Weller winces with her admission, but doesn't bother to offer her more pills when the ones she's already taken don't seem to have done much for her pain. They both know from recent history that meds don't do much for her headaches or her ability to sleep.

"Okay then just rest," he says, lying down and snuggling his face into her spine. "Do you want me to rub your back?"

He puts his hand on her shoulder as he asks, starts to lightly knead her tight muscles.

Jane stiffens for a moment in response to his touch, as if unsure she should accept his love. Then she lets out a long sigh, seems to settle something in her mind.

"My neck is getting really sore," she groans, barely audible. "Will you do that thing with your thumbs?"

His chest warms just with her ask, the little plea in her voice. She must know he would die for her, definitely does not have to be convinced to touch her.

"Of course," he replies, setting his hands to work at the top of her spine. "Anything for you."

Weller slowly uses his thumbs to draw lines up the back of Jane's neck with a gentle amount of pressure. He starts by lightly tracing the top of the derricks tattoo, then running his thumbs in parallel all the way behind her ears before bringing them back together up to her brainstem. At the top of the pattern he repeats the motion from the back of her head to behind her ears a few times before finally retracing his way down her spine.

Normally it only takes a few sets of this to knock Jane out, no matter the circumstance. But this time she's hurting so badly that she tenses in discomfort whenever his hands stop for even a moment, is clearly not even close to sleep.

So Kurt forgets about the emptiness in his belly, his desire for a shower. Loses himself in soothing his wife, tries to breathe away his own anxiety. All the while he keeps drawing patterns in her skin, hoping to take away some of her suffering.

###

Jane hides in the dark from the never-ending pain, lost in the constant pulsing of her head. The aching hadn't been quite so invasive for the past little while but now she feels the tension return, an volume increase on the pounding. She grits her teeth, does a self-assessment on what just changed, why things have gotten worse. Finally, she realizes that it's Kurt's touch that's missing; he must have finally gotten bored after soothing her for hours with his magical thumbs.

But when she forces her eyes open to take a look, Jane sees a fully dressed Weller sleeping beside her, halfway through stealing all the covers. Despite the feeling in her head she cracks a wan grin at the sight of her tough FBI agent husband looking like a little boy that's fallen asleep in all his clothes.

The smile quickly fades though with the vertigo that comes with opening her eyes. Then a wave of nausea arises in her gut and Jane hauls herself out of bed, stumbles towards the bathroom as quietly as she can.

She barely makes it to the toilet but still manages to close the door gently before throwing up a meagre mix of water and stomach acid, having not eaten since the last time she puked her guts out. Then Jane huddles on the floor, dry-heaving and gasping until her throat is raw; her entire body now pulsating with pain instead of just her head. And on top of all that she feels sweaty and disgusting, is sure that there is still vomit and blood in her hair from before.

She thinks about having a shower but doesn't want to disturb Kurt's sleep and isn't entirely sure she could manage to be upright long enough to get clean. So she decides to start with a glass of water to get rid of the taste in her mouth.

Jane stands up, using the vanity to support her. She still feels dizzy but manages to hold herself up with one hand while using the other to fill a glass with water. It's not until she gets over-confident and lets go of the vanity to turn off the tap that everything starts to amp up quickly.

The vertigo increases exponentially and Jane feels herself start to sway wildly with the cup still in her hand. She tries to put the water down, but misses the counter and the glass starts to fall so she reaches for it, desperately not wanting to wake Kurt up, force him to deal with her mess.

But of course her reflexes are completely off and not only does Jane not catch the falling cup, she also stumbles and crashes to the floor, just as the glass shatters, spilling sharp shards and water all over.

So she's soaked and huddled in the corner of the bathroom when Weller bursts in, his blue eyes wide with worry.

"Hey what's wrong," he asks, ignoring all the glass and hurrying to her.

Everything, she thinks. She feels sick and dirty and pathetic, unable to even get some water without upsetting both of them.

"Nothing," Jane replies, staring at her knees. "I'm okay."

Kurt crouches next to her, gives her the saddest smile.

"Jane, you're hiding in the corner in the bathroom," he says gently. "I know you're not okay."

He reaches for her hands slowly and Jane lets him take them in his, snake his fingers in between her own.

"And remember, you promised," he adds, in a tone that expresses exactly how much he needs her to tell him.

He's right, of course. It certainly didn't take a trained FBI investigator to see that she's not fine at all. And she had promised, knows how much it hurts him when she hides things from him.

Jane sighs, looks up at Kurt in the dark of the bathroom.

"I was nauseous and I threw up again," she admits. "Then I tried to get some water but I was really dizzy so I dropped it. Oh and then I fell trying to catch it."

She hides her face away again once she's confessed, waits for Kurt to get upset with her. Not that she has any reason to think he's going to be mad; she's just tense, feels like she keeps screwing everything up.

"Oh Jane," he says, so sympathetically it burns. "Did you hit your head or hurt yourself anywhere else when you fell?"

Jane shakes her head no, mumbles that she's fine. Which is mostly true. She feels embarrassed and anxious about falling on her ass, making Kurt freak out. But her head doesn't ache any worse than it had previously and the burgeoning bruise on her tailbone is the least of her problems.

Weller kneels on the floor before bringing his hand to her jaw and slowly tilting her head up until she's staring into his concerned blue irises.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice soft but tight.

She gives him a beseeching look, please believe me, it says.

"Yeah. I just feel bad I woke you up," she replies.

Kurt shakes his head and exhales an affectionate, irritated breath.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he grumbles. "But you should have woken me if you needed help. What if you'd hurt yourself again?"

"I made it to the bathroom on my own," she retorts, angry shame heating her words. "I didn't need you."

Jane cringes internally at her false words, then bolsters herself and waits for Kurt to make the obvious observation that she'd failed in her task, clearly did need his help. Part of her wants to fight, to unfairly take her frustration out on him. But instead of saying anything, Weller furrows his brow and plants a long kiss on her hairline, then looks into her eyes tenderly.

"Of course you didn't," he sighs, with just a hint of amusement in his voice. "And I love that about you, even if it drives me crazy at the same time."

Relief washes over her immediately as Weller defuses the incoming argument, gives her an easy way out. She doesn't know how he manages to stay patient with her even as she pushes on his worst anxieties. But she adores him for it, his endless capacity to understand her needs.

Jane brings her eyes up to lock onto Kurt's, then leans her head into his hand tiredly.

"I'm sorry," she says, suddenly exhausted again. "I know you're just trying to help."

"Hey, none of that," Weller admonishes softly. "Everything's going to be all right. I'm just going to clean up the glass and the water then we'll get you back to bed, okay?"

Jane nods glumly, tenses up as she watches Weller sweep up the broken glass, then wipe everything dry with a towel. She can feel him eyeing her closely, knows that he's just dying to take her back to the hospital. But when he's done cleaning up, Kurt just kneels beside her and takes her hands again, gives her his most concerned look.

"Are you still dizzy?" he asks, a whisper in her ear.

Jane considers fibbing, then remembers she's not allowed to. So she gives him a little nod instead, trying not to aggravate her head with any big motions.

"Okay, I'm going to help you up and back into bed," Kurt says, giving her fingers a squeeze.

Jane shakes her head, feels gross just thinking about lying in bed still covered in a litany of bodily fluids.

"Shower," she says, pleadingly.

Weller looks at her thoughtfully and nods, then kisses her on top of her head before leaving the bathroom and coming back with a plastic deck chair. He puts the chair in the shower and starts the water, then squats beside Jane, snaking his arms under hers from behind.

"We're going to stand up together okay?" he says as he pulls her up to her feet slowly, making sure she's solidly anchored in his grasp.

When she's standing he holds her still for a moment to let her catch her equilibrium, brings his forehead to rest on her back, right above his name. Jane revels in the steadiness of being so completely enveloped in Kurt, held tight in his arms.

"Ready?" he asks.

Jane nods and he walks her over to the shower, helps her get undressed before sitting her down in piping hot water. Then he quickly gets out of his own clothes and jumps in with her, starts to lightly shampoo her hair as she leans back in the chair, relaxing into his touch and revelling in the cleansing spray all around her.

Kurt massages her head, carefully avoiding her injury and then rinses her hair, before moving on to soaping them both up, scrubbing her softly while trailing his lips on her inked skin. It's so gloriously distracting that she almost forgets about her headache for a minute, lost in the feeling of his touch.

When he's done spraying the soap off of them both, Weller steps out of the shower but leaves it running. He then quickly dries off and puts on some boxers before returning with towels for her. When she sees him reappear Jane turns off the shower, feels so satisfied in being clean as Kurt drapes one towel around her shoulders, then uses the other to gently dry her hair.

When she's toweled off he helps her into PJs, holding her steady and muttering soothing encouragement as she starts to list with dizziness. Jane fights off the spins, is determined not to throw up again. She knows he's going to already want her to go back to the hospital. If she keeps on vomiting, she's not going to have a choice.

"You okay?" he asks

"Yeah," Jane mutters as she breathes clenched breaths, pushes away nauseous waves.

"I hate it, I feel so useless," she adds shamefully. It was just a hit to the head, nothing she hasn't dealt with before. She's sure it shouldn't be so debilitating, feels pathetic needing help just to shower and dress. Abhors putting Kurt in that position again, winces as she remembers how dutifully he'd bathed her and fed her when she was dying from the ZIP.

"Oh Jane," Kurt sighs, his eyes soft and sad. "You are so far from useless. You saved my life today, remember?"

She wants to disagree but Weller doesn't give her the chance, just keeps on going before she can say anything.

"I love that you trust me to take care of you," he says. "So please, Jane. Just let me do this for you. I need to."

Jane sighs. It's nothing she hasn't heard before. But even when she's caught up in irritability and low self esteem it makes her feel suspiciously fuzzy inside. Goddamn Kurt and his never-ending support, his unlimited capacity to care about her.

So of course she lets him lead her slowly back to bed, where he sits her on the edge and plugs in the blowdryer he's somehow located along the way.

She's about to tell him he doesn't have to bother when the warm air begins to blow against her neck and Weller's fingers start trailing lightly through her hair. Immediately Jane changes her mind and decides it's better to just let Kurt do this for her, revels in how intimate it feels with his hand running oh so softly against her injured scalp.

When he finally decides her hair is dry enough, Jane's more than a little disappointed. But she's immediately distracted as Weller tugs her further onto the bed and tucks her in. Then she feels him slip in and spoon up against her, comfortably draping his arm over her stomach.

For awhile they just lie there like that, Jane trying to ignore the pounding in her head, the tension in her husband. She thinks if she can just fall asleep before he starts talking then she can avoid the entire situation. But of course the pulsating throb of her broken skull doesn't let her get anywhere close to sleep so Jane's wide awake when Kurt takes a deep breath, exhales it against her base of her neck.

"Hey, I'm really worried," he says, his voice low with concern.

"I know, I'm sorry," Jane apologizes, barely a whisper.

"Hey no apologizing, it's not your fault," Kurt replies. "But if your symptoms stay this bad I need to take you back to the hospital."

Jane groans even though she already knew what he would say; would tell him the same thing if she had to drag him off the bathroom floor.

"No, Kurt. Please," she pleads pitifully. "I'm fine, I don't need to go to the hospital. I'm only a little bit dizzy and my head doesn't even hurt that much anymore."

Weller sits up and looks at her sternly, then rolls his eyes and shakes his head at her affectionately.

"Liar," he says, giving her a playful scowl, followed by a soft kiss.

He studies her closely, gives her a small frown.

"But okay, no hospital for now. If things get worse at all though, you have to tell me. And no fighting me on it. Remember, you promised. It's your brain, Jane. We can't risk that."

Now it's her turn to tilt her head at him, point her eyes skyward in a show of mock annoyance.

But the smile she's wearing is genuine, along with the shine in her eyes. She doesn't always cherish her own brain but she loves Kurt enough to protect all the things he holds dear. Even if that includes herself.

"Okay, no lying," she mutters, crumbling with the force of his love. "And no fighting."

Kurt grins at her concession and she can feel him loosen considerably as he leans over to kiss her on the lips again, then seals the deal with a lingering kiss to her forehead.

"Get some rest," he whispers in her ear. "Time to heal that beautiful brain of yours."


	4. Chapter 4

Weller stirs the simmering sauce as he stares at the bedroom door, waiting for any sign of Jane. It's almost four pm and she's been asleep most of the day; it's been like that ever since the night he brought her home from the hospital, when she didn't sleep a wink. In the three days since, Jane has been constantly exhausted even though she's napping a lot. Which makes him worried even though the internet and the FBI doctors he's been harassing tell him it's normal.

At least he's no longer sitting in the utter anxiety of analyzing her for symptoms of a brain bleed or a basilar skull fracture; waiting for his own cowardly decision to come back and bite him in the ass. Though it was still possible a hematoma could still show up, Weller's concerns about that have mostly been alleviated as Jane's symptoms slowly improve. The near constant headache and vertigo have still been affecting her though, along with this new exhaustion that's taken over her days. Which makes him think about the consequences of multiple concussions, wonder how many head injuries she's suffered before this one. Too many, is the only answer that comes to his mind as he pictures all the times she's been hit in the head on the job or knocked out due to a bomb blast. And that's not even factoring in the injuries she almost died of in Afghanistan when the US government tried to kill her with a drone.

Kurt grinds his jaw at the thought, irrationally hating the fact that she'd been injured and alone, even if she'd been a different person back then; part of an illegal black ops team. Even though it happened before he knew her, it still enraged him to know that the government tried to kill his wife, that she lay there alone, unconscious and bleeding into the Afghan dirt.

Weller sighs. He knows that thinking about Jane's medical history only drives up his anxiety level, pushes him close to panic even without the spectre of a slow bleed or other complications. So really, Kurt's just swapped one worry for another. Which was pretty much the story of his life.

It doesn't help that he's cooped up at home, doesn't want to leave her side. Jane keeps telling him to go to work, that she doesn't need him there watching her sleep. Just that morning she had growled at him for taking yet another day off. Had told him to go to in, that she wasn't dying anymore.

He could tell she hadn't meant to say it, saw her eyes go wide as she heard the words spill out of her mouth. Then, in typical Jane fashion, she had clammed right up, turned her frustration inwards and muttered a sad sorry before fleeing to the privacy of their room.

Kurt had watched it all happen, standing at the table, frozen in the still-fresh trauma of almost losing her. All the pain he hasn't been able to process yet surging right back on him; seeing her die slowly, feeling helpless and desperate the entire time. He can still hear her tell him that she loved him, in that tone he couldn't bear. It's almost as excruciating as he remembers; clamps down on his heart and crushes it into bits.

It had taken him a few long breaths to regain control, remind himself that she wasn't dying anymore, that the panic he still feels so resoundingly in his chest is just an aftereffect of being afraid for so long. Then, once calmer, he had sought her out, invaded her self-imposed exile. Found her sitting in bed, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her forehead on her knees.

She had apologized again when he sat down beside her on the bed, peeking over at him with bloodshot eyes. Tried to explain that she wasn't mad at him, even as he told her that it wasn't necessary, that he understood. In the end she had only let go of her tension as he drew soothing circles on her back with his palm, repeatedly reassured her that he wasn't upset.

So of course he can't leave her even if she's no longer in imminent danger and is generally steady on her feet. It doesn't matter that Jane grates at being observed so closely, especially when he's got nothing else to do all day but look her over for symptoms. Anytime he's away from her Weller is fearful that she will take things out on herself emotionally or push it too hard physically. He knows that the vertigo and headaches take a huge mental toll on her, especially after having such similar issues while she was sick from the ZIP. So he has to be present and ever watchful because he can't trust her, not when it comes to her own health.

Kurt hates it, wishes it wasn't true. He wants to have full faith in her, in every aspect of their lives. But it's just not possible with how she is. Even without her Remi memories Jane was reluctant to admit to her hurts. Now, he's fighting against a lifetime of conditioning, knows that her first instinct is to downplay everything, hide away her pain.

Weller's lost in his usual spiral of worries when he hears the bedroom door open and snaps his head up to watch as Jane walks out with a squint, her hand rubbing her forehead.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asks automatically, all of his anxiety instantly pushing the words out of his mouth even though he knows the question can irritate her at times. Especially when it's clear she's hurting, and she feels compelled to lie.

"I'm okay," she mutters, pulling her hand through her hair and briefly raising her eyes to meet his. "I'm just going to make some of that ginger tea."

Kurt feels his concern rising, knows that she only wants ginger tea when she's nauseous. But he resists asking her about it as he suddenly remembers using the last tea bag for her the previous day. He had planned to replace the box while she was sleeping but had gotten caught up in cooking and ruminating instead.

"Oh shoot, I meant to buy some more earlier," he groans. "I'll go get it now."

Jane shakes her head and he sees the wince she tries to hide, the tautness in her neck.

"No, I'll go, I need some air," she says.

"I'll come with you," Weller offers, even though the store is just down the street.

"No, Kurt," Jane mutters. "You've got something on the stove and you must be sick of being stuck to my hip. I'm just going to the bodega, I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

Weller knows better than to argue with her, even though he wants to tell her that he'd never be tired of being with her. So instead he just bites back his concern and says okay, then watches carefully as she puts on her shoes, heads out the door.

The store is less than two blocks away but Kurt can't help but freak out. It's the first time she's been out of the house on her own since she was injured and his mind keeps coming up with ridiculous situations that could befall her.

Briefly, Weller remembers back to when Avery was staying with them, the way Jane had flipped out when her daughter went to the same bodega, unaccompanied. He'd had to step in, remind Jane that clamping down on Avery would just lead to more resentment and frustration for the both of them. How ironic that he was now in the exact same situation, trying to convince himself that his worry is unfounded, that he can't insist on accompanying his assault weapon of a wife everywhere she goes.

The problem is that, lately, rational thoughts have little to no bearing on Kurt's experienced anxiety and he is barely able to fight the desire to chase her down. Weller feels his fear push him go after her even though he knows it would piss her off immeasurably, lead to an argument he doesn't want to have. So in the end all he can do is stare at the front door and count away the minutes. Try and convince himself that Jane's going to be fine; that someday soon they can both laugh about the time he nearly lost his mind because she went to the store on her own.

###

Jane leaves the apartment in a hurry, desperate to get some air and put some distance between her and Kurt's worry. She's already so sick of the never-ending tiredness, the persistent dizziness and pain. Even with all her mental training she can't seem to get an edge on it, which just frustrates her even more. Then add on the intensity of Weller's concern and she feels like a human pressure bomb, always about to detonate.

So she storms through the first block of her walk, feels the irritation start to seep out of her as she strides towards the store. But what starts out satisfying and exhilarating – being outside, away from Kurt's scrutiny – quickly begins to be overshadowed by the rising queasiness in her stomach, a feeling of imminent distress.

Jane's only about half way to the store when she starts to question her decision, her symptoms seemingly increasing with every step. The dizziness, tiredness, and headache that had started to improve from three days of sitting in a dark room now became overwhelming again with the extra stimulation of walking outside in the city.

Jane feels her heart begin to pound as her head tries to make sense of all the noise and action happening around her, has to stop and lean up against a building while her vision sways, threatening her balance. She closes her eyes for a moment, tries to focus inward on her own breath. She can almost feel Kurt there with her, his hand reassuringly on her back. He's telling her to breathe with him, that she's going to be okay.

It takes her a couple of minutes but finally Jane manages to settle the panic, slow her heart rate back down. For a moment she considers abandoning her mission, can't even remember what she's going to the store for. But she figures it'll come back to her by the time she makes it there, she just has to push through. Especially since she'd told Weller so confidently that she was fine to go on her own.

Jane decides there's no choice, that going back now would only give Kurt more reason to make that worried face all the time. She's already caused him so much stress lately, hates adding to his burden. Especially with something that hits so close to home, another problem with her brain.

Of course she doesn't factor in the cost of another block of walking just to get to the bodega, plus the actual shopping and getting back. It can't get much worse, Jane thinks, conveniently forgetting how she felt just three minutes ago.

She takes a deep breath in and then pushes herself off the wall, concentrating on just putting one foot in front of the other. It works to a degree, allows her to block out some of the extra stimuli that had aggravated her head. But even so, by the time Jane's made it to the store, she looks at the door and nearly cries at the thought of going in and making a purchase.

But now that she's hauled herself there, Jane isn't about to give up despite her growing anxiety about remembering what she requires, having to search the shelves when her eyes aren't focusing right. There's a loop running through her head that tells her she can't just go home, that it's too pathetic to tell Kurt that she almost gave up twice before she even made it to her destination. So Jane girds herself mentally as someone approaches and opens the door, uses all her will power to step in too.

The interior of the bodega is tightly spaced, a little cluttered. It usually seems cozy and familiar to her but now Jane feels too enclosed, pressured on all sides. Again, her heart rate starts to increase and she starts walking down the aisles, hoping that she will remember what she needs before panic sets it.

Her anxiety increases with every shelf that she passes, her mind a complete blank. Jane wonders if she looks as frantic as she feels, if everyone is watching as she tries to keep her breathing in check. Finally, after she's done two circuits of the store and is nearly frustrated to tears, Jane happens upon a box of ginger tea and suddenly remembers the post-nap nausea that prompted her excursion.

The relief at finding the required product clears the panic out of her system for just a moment, allows her to stumble to the cashier in near elation. But then once she's paid for the tea, the energy fades out of her body, leaves her feeling even more exhausted than before as she steps back out onto the street.

You can do this, Jane, she tells herself through the mental fog. It's only two blocks.

But it takes every ounce of energy in her to just maintain her balance as she puts one foot in front of the other, wobbling with every step. It makes her feel so weak, like she's back in the hospital relearning how to walk. At least then she'd been dying, had a reason to be so frail. Now, she's just concussed, a regular occurrence in her line of life. A head injury had never caused her so much trouble before so she's sure it shouldn't be so debilitating, no matter what Kurt keeps telling her.

Irritatingly though, her symptoms don't agree with her opinions, continue to push back against her denial until each step causes the whole world to swim, making her lightheadedly wonder if she's going to pass out on the street before she even gets home. But Jane breathes deep and steadies herself; pushes through the vertigo. Drags one foot in front of the other again until she finally finds herself at the apartment and nearly sobs in relief.

It takes a few attempts to get the key in the slot but then she's able to step inside, away from the bustling city and the incessant noise. Jane breathes a deep thankful sigh when the elevator is already there; steps in and leans the back of her head against the wall, barely able to resist crawling into a little ball on the floor. It still feels like there is a subwoofer imbedded in her brain, blasting a pulsating bass she can't escape from. But she can't go home in this state, not even when she's so desperate for relief. So Jane brings her hands to her head, tries to get a grip on the situation as the elevator dings its arrival.

Act normal, Jane thinks as she plods down the hallway. Don't make him freak out again. Even though she knows Kurt's not upset with her, it still feels that way to her fragile emotions, makes her neck tight with anxiety.

She stops outside their door, takes ten deep breaths to centre herself and don her best game face. Put the pain away, she tells herself, in her most demanding internal tone. Everything's fine now. You made it back, there's no need to admit how hard it was.

Jane steps in and greedily inhales the comforting scent of home. She sees Weller snap to attention right away in the kitchen, can see the tenseness in his body language from the door. But at least he resists rushing to her, eyeing her up like a suspect.

Every signal from her body indicates that she needs to go lie down in a dark room, give her brain a sensory break. Her jaw is sore from grinding away her headache, the vertigo and nausea still vicious even though she's made it back. But she feels so defeated at the thought of admitting it to Kurt, telling him that going to the store had drained every last drop of energy out of her, made all her symptoms surge.

So she stubbornly tries to pretend that everything is okay, walks over and tells Kurt that the walk was fine but the store was busy so it took awhile. It's just a harmless white lie, she tells herself. To protect him from his all consuming worry. Especially now that she's unlikely to develop any more serious complications, it doesn't seem wrong to shield him from the truth.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Weller asks, his eyebrows reflecting his doubt. "You look really pale."

Jane sits at the breakfast bar, opens the tea for something to do, a way to avoid his eyes.

"I'm fine, Kurt," she grunts as he comes over with the kettle.

But she is definitely not fine; can barely keep her eyes open or her body upright. Her head tells her that sitting on a stool is a bad idea at the moment but Jane is convinced she can pull it off despite the spinning in her brain, the roiling in her stomach.

So she leans into the bar to support her weight, brings her hands to her face as Weller pauses in front of her, studies her with serious eyes. Jane cringes, knows that that he can read her pain uncomfortably well, has had a lot of practical experience with it lately. She waits for him to call her on her lie, to beg for the truth. But Kurt just stands and observes her for a long while before he finally turns and walks away.

Jane looks up with just enough time to see how taut his body is as he stalks off to their room and closes the door.

She can tell he's upset but hopes that he'll cool off with some alone time. Shutting herself away in their room generally works for her, self-imposed solitary allowing her to breathe through things unobserved.

But then she hears a loud thud, followed by some muffled swearing.

Jane runs to their room, throws the door open. Her head and her guts immediately protest her quick movements but she pushes her discomfort away as she scans for what happened.

Very quickly her eyes lock onto Kurt, standing beside a fresh hole in the wall and cradling his right hand in his left. When she rushes up to him though, he doesn't look at her, just stares at the wall, seemingly considering hitting it again.

Jane tugs at the side of his hand gently, can see that it's already starting to swell. Weller doesn't give up easily though, his hand still balled up tightly into a fist, taut with explosive energy.

"Kurt. Please stop," she pleads. "I'm sorry okay. I'm sorry about everything."

"I don't want you to be sorry, Jane!" Weller roars, surprising her with the force of his words. "I just want you to do what we promised. No more lying."

She hates it when he's so obviously right, when she has nothing to back her up except a vague sense that she can't be a burden to anymore, especially not Kurt, who's already done so much for her.

"I can't take it anymore," he continues, suddenly sounding more frustrated than angry. "Having to figure out how you feel by looking at the tension in your forehead, the colour of your eyes. I don't understand why you won't talk to me, Jane. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Oh. Jesus Christ. He breaks her heart, one day at a time.

It's not you, Kurt. It's me. It's what she should say, let him off the hook and see if he finally runs away from her. Like he should. She only causes him more and more grief everyday, definitely does not deserve his love.

Or maybe that's just her head is messing with her, making everything so much harder than it has to be.

Jane looks up at Weller, sees how desperate he is to fix whatever he did, when he's done nothing wrong at all. She knows she's the only one that can fix it; it even sounds so easy. Just lean on him some more, let him love her too much.

Silently she steps closer, wraps her arms tightly around him, lays her aching head on his chest. It feels so good just to close her eyes, listen to his heartbeat.

Weller is still tense but he slips his arms around her, rubs her back absently as he holds her. She can tell he's waiting for her to say something though, isn't done with the conversation.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Kurt," she finally says, her words vibrating against his skin. "But you can't stay home from work and be the most patient person on the planet forever."

"Why not?" he asks, his breath brushing through her hair.

"Because you need work to keep you sane," she says. "It's only been three days and you've already put a hole in the wall."

"No, all I need is for you to tell me the truth and to rely on me," Weller argues, gently planting a kiss on the top of her head. "Why is that so hard?"

For a moment she looks up at him, sees the sad confusion in his eyes. You at least owe him some sort of explanation, she tells herself.

"There's so many reasons, I don't know where to start," she says slowly, searching for words.

"It's because I shouldn't complain. Because I could have avoided the hit. Because it really isn't that bad and I'm making you worried for no reason. Because I'm either upset or cranky all the time and I know I'm a drag to be around."

She hides her head in his chest, feels the traitorous tears start to soak his shirt. The concussion has made her emotions so difficult to control, she feels on the edge of some extreme all of the time.

He is right though. It is so comforting to burrow into him, when she finally stops resisting. Every night, lazy mornings, she's curled within him, hiding in his strength. It's the daytimes that bring resistance, a desire to be normal again, to not need a chaperone for a trip to the store.

She feels Weller breathe her in, inhale her stress away.

"I said no more lies, Jane," he says, his soft tone melting her heart. "None of those things are true."

"Is that really what your head is telling you?"

She nods against his collarbone, both relieved and ashamed all at once to have dumped it on Kurt. But at least it doesn't seem like he's going to punch anything else, his hands now fully occupied with holding her.

"None of this is your fault," Weller says, his voice strangled with emotion. "You could have died, Jane. I almost lost you again. So yeah, I'm worried. But it's for a good reason. Because I love you and you're hurting and I can't seem to do anything about it."

But he's been comforting her for days, his touch the only thing that soothes her. It feels like all he's been doing is massage her temples, rub her sore back and neck. In between cooking for her, coaxing her to eat. She feels so selfish, all the focus on her yet again. Yet right now, secure in Kurt's arms, she's able push away the encroaching darkness, focus on what's real and warm and right in front of her.

"All you do is make me feel better, Kurt," she says, as sincerely as she can. "I'm sorry I made you upset. It's just hard to believe that you're not sick of rubbing my headaches away, it feels like it's all you've been doing."

"Oh Jane," Weller sighs, brushing another light kiss against her broken skull. "You don't know what it's like to be with you. You are so impossibly tough I barely get to pamper you. It's only been three days. I could do this forever if that's what it takes to make you feel better."

"Mmmm," Jane hums, her lips vibrating against him. He's ridiculous and he's hers. Kurt is so giving he would dote on her for eternity, never ask for anything back.

"I could be okay with that."

She can feel the smile spread through his body as he squeezes her extra tight, then leans her back to look into her eyes.

"So let's try this again," he says, suddenly serious.

Jane eyes him warily, tries to breathe away her instant anxiety. She tells herself that it's Kurt, that she's safe.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

Her first instinct is still to hedge, shy away from the truth. But she forces herself to remember his swollen hand, the rage and sadness she'd seen in him. If this is all he needs, she can give it to him.

"My head's pounding," she finally says, glancing away with the shame of admitting it. "I'm really tired and nauseous again too."

"Come here," Weller says, leading her towards the bed.

Jane lets him walk her over and sit her on the edge of the bed. Then he gets in behind her, and pulls her in until she's comfortably nestled into him, her head bowed against her sternum.

When his fingers start to lightly knead behind her ears, Jane makes a long satisfied noise, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. The pleasant pressure releases her from the pain in her head, feels so amazing she has no idea why she ever resisted it, even if the cost is telling him the truth. The bliss of Kurt's hands is pure relief once she allows it.

"That feel good?" he asks rhetorically.

She can hear the satisfied grin in his voice, feels the warmth spread in her chest as she remembers that this is all Kurt wants. To do this for her, take care of her when she hurts.

"Mm hmm," she mumbles in agreement. "Better than good."

His hands make their way up and down her spine, followed by a trail of silky soft kisses. He brushes his lips so lightly against her skin that her neck tingles and she shudders with pleasure. She's relaxed in a way that seemed impossible just a short time ago, feels all that pent up anxiety and pain fade away until she almost forgets she just made Kurt so upset that he put a hole in the wall.

"You should ice your hand," Jane murmurs, even though she's disappointed at the thought.

"It's busy," Weller replies, his breath hot against her skin. "With more important things."

"Kurt," she sighs. "You can't always put me first."

Weller grumbles, makes a disagreeable noise. She can tell he doesn't even like the concept, would never agree to those terms.

"I can try," he mutters, pressing his thumbs into her temples, in exactly the right spot. "And sometimes you let me."

When she's relaxed, her brain working, Jane wonders why she would ever forego the comfort that he gives her. It's even easy to remember that he's more than happy to do this for her as long as necessary. That it's the concussion that convinces her otherwise, makes her question things.

So she finally gives in, completely. Lets all of his love sink into her, until she's almost lightheaded from the effect.

"Mmm, thank you. I love you so much, Kurt," she mumbles, her exhaustion taking over, pushing her back towards sleep. "But please. No more hitting walls."

She feels him laugh, his chest expanding against her back. For a moment he brings his hands down and wraps them around her torso, grasps her tightly to him as he lays a long lingering kiss on the nape of her neck, making her whole body flush with warmth.

"No more hitting walls," he agrees.

"I've got better things to do with my hands."

###

A/N If you've read this far and are thinking "this is just the same thing over and over again"... yup, it is :D


	5. Chapter 5

A/N early drop this week because... why not.

###

It's been over a week. And everything is still impossible.

The light. Loud noises. Exercise. Screens. Work. It all makes her head scream.

Jane is so pent up, bored to tears. Constantly caught up in worrying about how long her concussion will last, how much she's been leaning on Kurt. She knows she's been moody and short with him even though he is so goddamned good to her. Which just makes her feel more unworthy, worse about herself. Over and over she just can't control her emotions and then gets upset with herself afterwards, because she absolutely hates making Kurt wear that frustrated concerned face.

Currently, she's staring into the fridge, irritated by the light and the difficulty of choosing something to eat. Somehow anxiety has taken over even the smallest tasks, fills her days with dread.

Jane tries to sort through the options in her head, put some order to her thoughts.

Salad. Spring mix looks soggy.

Cereal. Not enough oat milk.

Sandwich. Bread is stale, too many ingredients.

Pasta. Requires actual cooking.

By the last thought her head already hurts from concentrating on her simple task and she's completely stuck mentally spinning about the stupidest problem. Jane just stands there frozen until she's so annoyed that she decides to forgo eating. She slams the fridge door shut and then curses to herself. Because of course Kurt looks up in surprise from the couch, walks over wearing a small frown.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks.

Everything's wrong, she thinks. My head hurts and I can't do anything and I'm always upset.

"Nothing's wrong," she mutters, refusing to meet his eye.

Weller sighs and she knows without looking what expression he's got on his face. The wounded one, too full of pity. She doesn't want to hurt him though, is trying her best to be honest. She knows how much he worries, even when she's not a hot mess.

"I couldn't decide what to eat. Everything just seemed too hard," she admits, eyes to the floor.

Kurt walks over to her, takes her fingertips in his hands.

"I can pick for you," he suggests.

"No, Kurt," she replies. "That's pathetic. I should be able to choose food from the fridge without losing it."

"Oh Jane," he says, sighing again. "Just let me make you something, okay?"

The worst part is she knows he would be beyond happy to cook for her, that he absolutely adores taking care of her. But it isn't the point. She wants to just do something for herself, stop feeling like a basket case.

"You don't get it, Kurt," she snaps. "I can't even make myself lunch, do you know how useless that makes me feel? My head is so messed up all over again and I can't do anything for myself and you mothering me just makes things worse. So no. Don't make me something. I'm not hungry anymore."

With that Jane pulls her hands out of Kurt's grasp and stalks out of the kitchen, looking for escape. She knows if she leaves the apartment Weller will just follow her. Usually when she needs a personal time out she goes to their bedroom, sits in a corner. But today she needs some air so she walks out onto the balcony, sinks into a patio chair and holds her aching head in both her hands.

It's colder and windier than she expects but the icy burn feels good against her skin. For awhile Jane just sits and breathes, tries to quell her shaking chest. She can't believe she stormed out on Kurt over her own inability to choose food. It might be a new low, she thinks. Well, at least counting only her 'Jane' memories. She definitely should not start thinking about all the plotting she'd done against him, the poison syringe meant to for him. That was a rabbit hole of low self-esteem at the best of times, a ticket straight to self-hate in her current state of mind.

Not that she didn't already hate herself enough for all the weight she's putting on Kurt. It's been awhile since she's felt this anxious, this doubtful of herself. It makes her want to shut herself off from the world, never hurt anyone again. Punish herself too, for causing so much pain.

Which explains her choice of the balcony this time, a personal cell and cold chamber all in one. As long as she just stays there by herself, there won't be any decisions to make, no arguments with Kurt. She just has to not think about how worried he probably is, how her thin cotton pants and shirt are not at all adequate for the cold.

Jane huddles in her chair, arms wrapped around herself tightly. She closes her eyes and tries to shut out the brisk air, convince herself that the freshness is clearing her head. It works for another while, out of pure stubbornness. But eventually she has to admit to herself that she's freezing, that she should go inside.

Still Jane doesn't move, even as she starts to shiver violently.

I deserve this, she thinks. I should hurt the way I'm making him hurt.

It's nonsensical and she knows it. But it perversely feels good to punish herself, to push back against her broken brain.

If she goes in, she's letting herself off the hook and admitting defeat all at once. In a contest she's only having with herself.

Part of her wants Kurt so badly, wants to just curl up in him and sob an apology. But Jane's much too ashamed to go to him, absolutely does not want to admit how cold and sad and terrified she is out there in her personally enforced solitary confinement.

So instead she hunkers down and holds herself tight, silently screams at Weller to help her solve this ridiculous predicament she's put herself in. Then mentally castigates herself for expecting him to save her when she's the one who yelled at him for trying to help.

Her broken brain searches for solutions until she's so numb inside and out that she doesn't have the energy to think anymore. At that point Jane realizes she probably couldn't move even if she wanted to, that she's barely in control of her frigid limbs. Dimly, she hopes that Kurt doesn't let her freeze to death on their balcony due to her sheer stubborn idiocy.

###

His wife may be the one with a fractured skull, a brain injury but Kurt Weller feels like he's the one losing his mind, increasingly unable to cope. All he wants to do is take care of her, do whatever he can for her as she heals. But he knows how grating it is on Jane, who's used to being so capable, who was raised to believe that accepting help is a fatal weakness.

He swears he's trying not to hover, to let her solve her own problems when she doesn't want his assistance. Give her space when she asks for it and not barge in like his heart screams at him to. But it's impossible to watch her suffer without offering to help. He just wants to make things better for her but his best efforts sometimes end up with Jane storming off, segregating herself in their bedroom until she's calmed down.

She always eventually comes back and apologizes, which just makes him feel bad all over again. He knows the injury has left her with a lot of anxiety and very little control of her emotions, tries to tell her that it's not her fault. But of course Jane expects herself to be over it already, doesn't see that she's making things worse by getting down on herself for not meeting her own ridiculous personal standards.

This time, however, she's gone out to the patio to cool off, instead of their room. Dressed lightly, with the temperature outside below freezing. Which means Weller is actively freaking the fuck out, silently debating how long he gives her before barging out there and forcing her to come inside. At what point it's worth the volcanic anger that can arise when he oversteps her boundaries these days.

At ten minutes he's still pretending to read the news, tells himself she's just getting some air. At twenty minutes he stands up and peeks at her, thinks she looks cold but somehow convinces himself that she's an adult, had just told him to stop mothering her. So instead of going out there like he desperately wants to, Kurt searches for a distraction and ends up making lunch just in case he can convince her to eat when she comes in.

After forty minutes have passed and the food is ready, Jane is still outside, sitting so still in her chair that Weller's suddenly overcome with the panic that's been rising all along. His heart starts to race and he rushes onto the balcony with a blanket, no longer caring how mad she may be at him. She can yell at him all she wants once she's safely inside.

Kurt breathes a huge sigh of relief when he sees that Jane is conscious, looks up at him with half-lidded eyes. But he also notes with concern that she seems dazed and her entire body is shivering uncontrollably.

"Oh Jane, you're freezing," he says, stupidly stating the obvious as he drapes the blanket over her, rubs his hands on her shoulders.

Jane nods in response, closes her eyes in reaction to his touch.

For a moment Weller is frozen as well, flooded with guilt. He is a terrible husband, should obviously have come out sooner to check on her. His injured wife is hypothermic and he let it happen because he wasn't man enough to face her anger.

Kurt feels the familiar wave of shame wash over him but forces himself back to the more urgent need of getting Jane inside. He's sure that it's not a good thing that she's this docile but he's going to take advantage of while he can. Because she's so cold he's not sure he can get her to stand, even with his help.

"I'm going to pick you up, okay?" he says, already leaning over and scooping his arms under her back and her knees. "And we're going to go inside and warm you up."

Jane nods again and his heart cracks a bit more with frail she looks. He lifts her up easily, blanket and all; cradles her to him. Then he walks inside and sits down on the couch with her still nestled in his arms.

For a moment he rocks her gently, tries not to sink into self-recrimination when Jane needs all his attention. She's still shivering madly even though they're inside, her body rigidly shaking in his arms.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come out there sooner," he murmurs against her frigid skin. "I'm going to go make some warm packs and I'll be right back."

"No," Jane mutters slowly, her drowsy eyes searching for his panicked ones. "Don't go."

"Jane, you're hypothermic, I have to get some heat into you," he says gently.

"Mm, you're warm," she replies, nestling into him even further.

Oh, well. That settled that.

Weller pulls her in tighter, breathes hot air onto the nape of her neck. He keeps on rocking her, trying to get her own body to generate some warmth while also doing his best to transfer his body heat into her.

"Yeah, and you're not," he says. "But I'm going to fix that."

"Mmm," Jane sighs. "Please. I'm so cold."

He still wants to go get the warm packs, the heated blanket too. But Jane is so enveloped in him that he can't possibly leave her, even for a few minutes. She so rarely exposes herself so fully, lets herself lean on him. So he'll take it even if it's only because she's disoriented and hypothermic.

So Kurt cradles Jane in his arms and whispers loving nonsense in her ear, tells her to think warm thoughts. It's an extended process to bring her body temperature up without any heat source other than himself and a blanket. But if that's what Jane wants, he's not going to object.

It takes a long time, but eventually Jane's teeth cease chattering and her shivering starts to slow. When she finally stops shaking, Jane breathes out tiredly and looks up at him, clearly still a bit foggy in her mind. He can tell that she remembers what happened when her eyes darken and she sits up, strains against his grasp.

"I'm sorry. I'm okay now," she says. "You can let me go."

Kurt just tightens his arms though, brings his lips down to kiss her forehead.

"I'm not," he replies, completely honestly. "Please just let me hold you."

Jane frowns for a moment then bites the corner of her lip as a wave of emotion passes through her eyes. Finally, as if coming to some momentous decision, she exhales sadly and burrows her head against his ribcage, starts crying silent tears.

"Hey, hey," he says gently, his chin resting lightly on top of her head. "It's okay, Jane. I know you're frustrated. But everything's going to be alright. It's barely been a week and you've been getting better every day."

Jane huffs angrily against his shirt, looks up with a scowl.

"That's not true, Kurt," she grumbles. "I just lost it because of lunch. I still can't do anything."

Except kill me with your bare hands, even with a broken skull.

Weller grins at the thought, can't help but mentally laugh at the notion of Jane being incapable in any way.

"You, my dear, are frighteningly able," he says, beaming at her with admiration. "But you've actually never been that good at feeding yourself."

Jane sighs, gives him a glare.

"This isn't about food, Kurt," she replies, her voice edging towards annoyance. He can tell she thinks he's not listening to her, that he's just trying to brush off her concerns.

"I know. I know you think you should be able to do all the things you can usually do even though your head hurts and you're dizzy and all your emotions are out of whack. I know you just want to be better. But it takes time and sometimes little things like lunch are going to be hard. You just have to remember it's okay to need help. It's what I'm here for."

She's still slightly frowning at the end of his speech but she doesn't look angry with him anymore, just forlorn.

"I hate this. I hate being like this. I hate that I'm hurting you and I can't stop it."

Could she be any more heartbreaking?

"Oh Jane. You're not hurting me, I just hurt for you. It's not the same," he says.

"Don't lie to me, Kurt," she sighs. "You're so good to me and all I do is yell at you and shut you out."

"Yeah well, I've been told I can be a bit overbearing when the people I love need help," he replies with a shrug. "So I get it. Sometimes I'm trying too hard and you need the space. And you probably can't get me to back off without losing it."

This last statement finally turns the curl of her lip upwards the tiniest bit, changes the tone of her eyes.

"I can't believe someone would accuse you of being overbearing," she comments dryly.

Weller offers her his best crooked smile in response, snuggles her tight.

"So is this a good time to tell you I made your favourite pasta salad for lunch?" he asks cautiously. "And there's some of that tea you like in the thermos. Your hands are still freezing."

He feels her laugh and shake her head against him.

"You're hopeless," she says.

"For you?" he replies. "Definitely."

Jane sighs and settles into him further, so tightly he can feel her breath through his shirt. He thinks he feels her recently volatile mood shift yet again as her shoulders tense up.

"I'm sorry," she says again, confirming his suspicions. "This is all my fault."

"No," Weller replies seriously. "You have nothing to be sorry for Jane. I love you and you deserve to be taken care of, no matter what your concussed brain tells you. So just please stop apologizing okay?"

Jane doesn't reply for awhile and he waits for her to argue, reject his statement. But then she just speaks and crushes him all over again.

"Okay," she mumbles, right into his heart. "You are such a good husband, Kurt. I don't know what I would do without you."

Her brain is broken and she's hurting so badly yet she still pulled out the perfect thing to say. All his worry about screwing things up, making her upset, fly out of his mind with her reassurance. He may still be doing a poor job by his own assessment. But at least Jane doesn't seem to feel the same way.

"And you are my amazing, starving wife," he replies softly. "So can I please feed you lunch before you get hangry again?"

It's a risky move but it pays off when Jane elbows him in the side playfully, then wraps her arms around his neck.

"Not yet," she murmurs contentedly. "Just hold me a little longer, please."

So of course he pulls her to him fiercely, until all he feels is her body against his, her breath on his chest. He would hold her like this forever if he could, cocooned in the safety of his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N last angsty chapter, so it's extra angsty...

###

They're out for a run when it happens, his worst fear. He loses control of the situation and she disappears.

Everything had been going fine, it was only Jane's second time running since she sustained her concussion but the first had been encouraging and she was clearly elated to be out and doing something physical again.

They're about midway through their route, running at about half their usual speed when Jane starts to pick things up, push herself harder. At first, Weller just matches her pace, convinces himself that she's just trying to find her current limits, testing herself a bit. But then she really starts going to the point where he's straining to keep up and he can see that she's feeling it too.

"Jane, slow down," he calls out as they run. "You're supposed to still be taking it easy."

"I'm done with taking it easy," Jane replies. "I feel good. I want to keep going."

"Jane, you're going to give yourself a set back," he argues, regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. Warning Jane about possible consequences is sometimes like daring her to push her limits. Especially when it came to physical exertion.

Still, he doesn't expect it when she suddenly starts running full out, leaving him in the dust. Weller kicks his legs into high gear, tries to catch up but Jane has always been a stronger runner than him and two weeks of inactivity has done little to affect her fitness level. So all he can do is huff along after her, yelling at her to slow down as he gets further and further behind. Eventually she's too far away to hear him so he saves his breath, tries to reach deep for some extra energy. But Jane is goddamned fast and soon he can't even see her in the distance, has to resign himself to the fact that she's gone.

At that point he can barely breathe either so Weller pulls to a stop, his lungs heaving for air as he admonishes himself for being out of shape. She has a broken head, hasn't exercised in weeks, and still kicked his ass.

His own head is a jumble of thought and emotion, panic smashing around with reason. Watching Jane run away from him sets off every alarm bell in his body, makes him overreact and question whether he'll ever see her again. All of his worries crash over him, panic shading his every thought. She has a head injury still, is going to be shaken and sick when she finally stops pushing. Alone in the city, without her phone or any money. Though anyone that tries to mug her would still likely end up seriously regretting their decision.

Kurt clenches his jaw, tries to force himself to calm down and assess his options. He could marshal all his resources, put out APBs, get Patterson working on facial recognition. But even in his frantic state he knows that would be too much at this stage, that Jane would be embarrassed if he told everyone what happened. Also, what was he going to say? I couldn't keep up to my injured wife who's probably just out trying to set a personal best because she's frustrated from being cooped up.

His rational mind tells him that he's got to give her the time to calm down and come back to him. That the most logical approach is to just go home and wait for her. Most likely she will run it off and return to their apartment.

But it doesn't make it any easier to call off his search. His emotions are firing in every direction, telling him he can't just stop and go home. Weller feels like he's giving up on her by not blindly running after her, pointlessly searching all of New York City. It's not how he's built; he isn't wired to stop looking for someone he loves.

Kurt spends a long time standing there, staring into the distance and talking himself down. All that hurt he still carries around with him is heavy in his heart, rises to his throat. Emotion takes over from reason and crashes down on him. She left him again, despite his pleas. When things get hard, she runs from him, not to him.

Weller barely manages to convince himself that he can't fall apart in the middle of the city, dressed in running gear. Eventually he finds himself walking around aimlessly, as if he's just going to miraculously find Jane amongst the city crowds. It's a disturbingly familiar feeling, one he lived with for eighteen months of his life. Just a vague hope in all of the emptiness of his soul.

By the time he arrives home, Weller feels completely worn out, can barely take the disappointment of finding the apartment empty even though it was unlikely she had come back first. His mind is full of images of her falling, hitting her head again and wonders if it's too soon to start calling hospitals.

He finally decides he has to give her another couple of hours to get back before he puts out any calls. She had probably run quite a lot further, didn't have any way home except walking. Which just makes him worry even more, the thought of her wandering around the city tired and dizzy.

Weller finds himself pouring a drink, then a second one. Another bad habit from those dark months, alone on the road with only his fears. He knows he shouldn't give in to the absolution of alcohol but sometimes it's the only way to get his twisted insides to loosen up.

The real problem was the other effect that booze has on him, the tendency towards sowing hurts, growing depressive thoughts.

She must not love him enough if she can do this to him over and over. When she knows how much it hurts him, how fucking afraid he is of losing her again. That he isn't enough for her, that she only found herself when she left him.

He's been stirring in a toxic mix of alcohol and dark thoughts for nearly two hours when he hears the door open, snaps his head up to stare at Jane stepping through. A flood of emotion crashes through him all at once; endless waves of relief, anger, hurt, sadness.

He stands to face her, feels the booze affecting his stability as he meets her eyes. Jane looks apologetic but defensive, crosses her arms as she stands in front of him tensely. Which he should take as a sign to ease off, pull back. But Weller's more drunk than he realizes and can't dampen the need to fire questions at her, escalate the situation.

"What the hell happened?" he asks, needing some kind of explanation for his afternoon of misery.

Jane frowns, immediately loses any hint of remorse in her expression.

"I just needed to run," she says with a shrug, as if she hadn't done anything out of the ordinary.

"We were running, Jane," Weller replies. "You can't just take off on me like that, anything could have happened to you."

"Yeah well, I needed more of a workout," she argues. "You should have kept up."

Really. She was going to try to pin it on him? Kurt feels his temper start to rise despite his best intentions.

"Stop ignoring the issue," he storms. "You still have a concussion. You know you can't run off on your own."

"No Kurt, I didn't know that," she snaps back at him. "I didn't know I have no freedom just because I got hit in the head."

"You know that's not what I meant," he fires back, irritated that she's deliberately misconstruing his words. "You're my wife, Jane. I need to know where you are, that you're okay."

He can tell it's the wrong thing to say as soon as it leaves his mouth. Jane glares at him in response, sets her expression firmly.

"I didn't realize I needed to report all my actions to you," she sneers. "I've already been in prison, Kurt. I don't need my marriage to be one too."

Goddamn it she can really fucking fire. It's like taking an emotional RPG right to the gut. All that guilt he still has tied up in letting the CIA have her, hurt her. Combined with his constant worry that she's only with him because it was her easiest course of action. She had a life that was unexplainable to anyone else, had quickly realized that when she tried to date a regular guy. So a tiny part of him has always thought that he only got lucky because she felt like she had limited options for a future partner.

All of this explodes in him as Weller stares at his wife, shocked at her words. He's completely flooded in hurt and anger and shame, and all he can think is he has to get away from her before she strikes again, that he can't take another hit like that. So Kurt does his best to gather the tattered pieces of himself and then silently stalks past her, walks out the door.

###

Kurt storms out of the apartment and Jane immediately feels her heart sink through the floor. She stares at the door as she realizes what she'd just done, what she had just said to him. Instantly all her anger falls away, shattered by her own words.

Fuck, Jane thinks miserably. She had not meant for it to go like that.

She had come out of a dissociative state while running, found herself in an unfamiliar neighbourhood, dizzy and in pain. At that point she had realized that Kurt wasn't with her anymore, that she was going to have to get herself home somehow. And then on the long walk back she had oscillated between being apologetic for taking off on him and feeling defensively justified in running as hard as she wanted to.

Coming to their door she even had an apology on her lips, thought she was ready to make peace. But as soon as his anger hit her Jane had felt all of her own sensitivities kick in. She still has such fragile control of her emotions, especially when exhausted and starving. And now all those words that tumbled out of her mouth are coming back to her, making her cringe in the too empty apartment.

Jane sucks in a breath, hugs herself tight as she starts to really examine how badly she'd screwed up, how hurtful she can be. Looking back on it she can't believe she even thought the words, much less said them to Kurt.

What the hell is wrong with her? How could she have done that to her husband, to the man she loves so fiercely?

Jane is lost in a sea of self-recrimination, finds herself zoning in and out of the present until she starts to shake in her own cold sweat and wonders how long she's been standing there. She knows she should shower and get warm but she stays frozen to her spot, unable to do anything before she apologizes to Kurt. Not that she expects a simple sorry to be enough. She had shot right at him, aimed for his heart.

Jane clutches herself tight as the dark thoughts and questions come flooding in again, feels panic start to rise in her throat. She knows there isn't any excuse for what she did, what she said. That she can never retract any of it, that it will be there between her and Kurt forever.

Her heart begins to race and Jane starts to get dizzy and gulp for breath. She sits down on the floor, her head between her knees and tries to get her breathing in control but still her heart pounds too quickly in her already aching skull.

For a long moment Jane is sure she's going to die, that her heart can't possibly keep it up. And even in the throes of panic, she's both regretful of so much and sure she deserves it. After everything she had already done to Kurt. Leaving him, cheating on him. Not to mention using his earliest trauma against him, plotting to murder him. To bring it all back like that, throw everything right in his face.

By the time she gets her lungs under control and her heart rate down Jane is a mess of angry ashamed tears, sure she's irrevocably damaged her marriage. She wonders if she should be packing a bag, if Kurt's going to want her to leave. But at least she has the wherewithal to not just run in the moment, repeat her mistake.

Jane's still sitting there in the middle of the floor and sobbing silently, sinking in regret and guilt when she hears the door. She hides her head between her knees again as anxiety shoots straight up her spine, makes her huddle into herself even further as he walks in, rushes up to her.

"Jane, what's wrong?" Kurt asks, placing his hand tentatively on her shoulder.

Jane pushes his hand away, doesn't want to feel his touch when she's so horrified with herself. And she's sure he can't possibly want to comfort her, is only doing so because he still feels some sort of duty as her husband.

"You don't have to do that," she says, scooting away from him.

"And I know it's too late and you probably don't want to hear it anymore. But I'm sorry for everything," she adds, miserably.

Her head is still buried, tears streaming down her face. She doesn't want to look up at Kurt, see how angry he is at her. Feel his rightful ire, the hurt of betrayal in his eyes.

But then Weller kneels beside her, puts his hand on her shoulder again.

"Hey, it's not too late for anything," he says, worriedly. "And I'm sorry too, I was drunk and I really worked myself up. I could have dealt with that a lot better."

His apology brings her head up, makes her stare at him in disbelief.

"No, Kurt," she snaps. "You don't get to apologize for what happened. I know what I did, I know what I said. It's unforgivable."

Now it's Weller who's looking at her confused, his hand somehow still warm on her shoulder.

"Don't I get to decide what can be forgiven or not?" he asks. "And what I have to apologize for?"

"No," Jane replies instantly. "Not for this."

"So I can't just say you're forgiven?" he asks. "Because you are."

Jane groans, shakes her head at him.

"No, you can't," she states. "I hurt you and I meant to. That's not forgivable, not ever."

"Oh Jane," he sighs, moving his hand to her back and starting to make circles with his palm. "You're not yourself right now. I know that, I just let alcohol and my emotions get the best of me for a moment there."

"I said no apologizing," she growls. "None of it was your fault."

"Hmm, not even the part where my concussed wife who's been off exercise for over two weeks kicked my ass at running?" he asks. "Or the part where I decided it was a good idea to drink away my feelings?"

"No, Kurt," Jane says sharply. "I literally ran away from you. It's pretty much the worst thing I could have done."

Saying it like that makes it real all over again, floods her in self-horror. Especially with Kurt still looking at her so sympathetically, his hand against her back. She considers shifting away from him again but knows he would only just follow.

"But you came back and you're okay," he replies. "That's all that matters to me."

Jane groans again, wants to hit her husband right in his forgiving face.

"That's pathetic," she says, the words slipping through her defective mental filter.

But of course Weller just laughs a little, squeezes her shoulder lightly.

"Maybe it is," he replies. "Or maybe it's just love. Nothing's unforgivable, Jane. I know how frustrating it's been for you and I know you didn't mean it."

"But I did," she argues. "I did mean it, Kurt. I heard you tell me to stop and I didn't. And then all the things I said. None of it is true, I love you and I love our marriage. So obviously I was just trying to hurt you. Which just shows what kind of person I am, why you should stay the hell away from me."

"Okay, Jane, that's enough," Weller says with a serious shake of his head. "Stop trying to take this all on yourself.

"Goddammit, Kurt!" Jane hollers, pushing out of his grasp and to her feet. "Will you just stop!"

She stands there for a moment, unsure of where to go. The directness of his love is painful in her current mood and she suddenly needs to get away from his too-caring eyes.

But of course Kurt stands too, grasps her hand and pulls it towards him while she's stuck in emotional stasis. She knows what he's going to do and wants to resist, yank herself out of his grasp. But she doesn't, lets him place her palm on his chest, right above his heart.

"No," he says, after a long while. "I won't ever stop loving you."

At first anger still flares in her veins, fueled by self-hatred. But, as she feels Kurt's heart beat under her hand, the fire turns to guilt-driven sorrow, full of shame and personal recrimination. Jane feels tears start to spill again, both longs for the absolution of Kurt's arms and feels like she doesn't deserve it all at once.

Thankfully Weller solves the problem for her, like he always does. Sees that she's crying and brings his spare hand up to wipe away her tears, then crushes her into a hug.

"Hey, everything's going to be okay," he soothes. "I love you so much."

Jane makes a strangled noise, shakes her head against his collarbone.

"How can you?" she asks, barely a whisper.

"Oh Jane," Kurt says, somehow pulling her even tighter. "You have a concussion because you were saving my ass, yet again. You've been in constant pain and anxious and depressed for the last two weeks. I see you trying so hard to tough it all out and then get so upset when you make a little mistake. It's goddamned heartbreaking Jane. How could I not love you?"

"This wasn't a little mistake," she protests into his skin.

"And you're more than a little sorry," he replies into her hair. "Remember, I know your heart, I always have. Whatever words you say because your brain is injured, those don't matter at all."

Jane sighs, shakes her head again.

"That's not how it works, Kurt," she grumbles.

"It is now," he says, a smile in his voice.

Ah. It's so ridiculous it almost makes her laugh. Definitely makes her bite back a grin.

She does not want to let Kurt charm her out of her bad mood. But she also doesn't want to punish him for her mistake. Hold onto it when he's trying desperately to let it go.

It's all at war within her, along with the lack of emotional control that started this all. Stirring her guts, making her head pound yet again. Jane feels afloat one moment then inexplicably angry the next. Until all of a sudden she has an insight, a burst of clarity.

She's been fixating on herself, her mistake and her guilt. How much she must have hurt him, how horrible a wife she is. While Kurt is wrapped around her, trying to comfort her and feeling bad that she won't forgive herself.

She's still doing it, exactly what she was upset with herself about. And it has to stop.

She might never forgive herself but she can't do this to him anymore. She might not exactly love herself in the moment. But she loves Kurt more than anything, even in her bleakness. So she's going to do her best to give him what he wants.

"Okay," Jane finally says, a soft mutter into his chest. "I love you too. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, no more sorries," he murmurs predictably. "You are so kind and forgiving of everyone else, Jane. Remember you deserve it too, especially right now."

Kurt brings his hands up to her cheeks, tilts her head back and looks at her with so much warmth in his eyes that she almost tears up again. Then he slowly brings his face to hers, giving her every opportunity to back away before he brushes his lips against hers, posing a silent question.

Jane slips her hand to his jaw, forgets that she's a tear-stained mess. For a moment she's just letting him kiss her, testing her emotional ground. But then it's impossible to resist the gentle invitation of his mouth and she pulls herself to him; lets herself get lost in the comfort of being connected to Kurt, breathing him in.

When they finally stop for air, all she can see is the shine in Weller's eyes, an absolute beam of adoration. Which only makes her realize the state she's in; covered in dry sweat and tear streaks, her face a puffy mess.

"I'm a disaster," she moans, shaking her head in his hands.

"Mmm," Kurt replies with a content grin. "My beautiful disaster."

She does laugh at that, his absolute incorrigibility. Kurt Weller, forever determined to love her. For a flash she remembers yelling at him and her heart falls. But this time she manages to turn it around, remember his ridiculous rule. It doesn't matter what I said, she tells herself. He knows my heart. And there is no doubt what her heart says about him.

She forgets that she's grimy, that she can smell herself. Jane wraps her arms around Kurt's neck, pulls him down to slip her lips onto his, relishing the feel of his hands roaming her back, caressing her behind her ear.

She still doesn't entirely forgive herself, is sure she will hang onto it for awhile yet. But if this is part of what's needed to heal Kurt's wounds then she can definitely do this. Get lost in her husband's overwhelming love, his crushingly endearing self.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N last chapter, thanks everyone for reading and reviewing!

###

Her head feels better. But her heart, it's still more than a little broken.

Jane's awake early, wants time to go for a run before work. It's so satisfying to be able to physically release her anxieties, to stop rehashing her mistakes while her feet pound the pavement.

Because otherwise, all she does is look at him and think about all the times she yelled at him, how all of her anger and frustration landed on him. She is more sorry than she can express in words, especially because Kurt won't let her apologize for all the hurtful things she said. He just shuts it down whenever she tries to bring it up, occupies her lips with other tasks.

She looks over at Weller, soundly asleep under all the covers as usual. He genuinely doesn't seem to blame her for anything she did while concussed, brushes even the worst of it away. Her chest warms just watching him slumber, listening to his soft snores. She's still sure she doesn't deserve him, but a little more willing to accept that her traumatic life gave her one single boon to make up for all the bad.

Jane smiles at the thought. A lifetime of woe in exchange for one Kurt Weller.

At least it was a good deal in the end.

She crawls out of bed quietly, gets dressed for her workout. Then she puts on some coffee for when Kurt wakes and eats a bagel before heading out the door; still relishing in being able to do the little things in life without taxing her brain.

Jane runs and thinks about the problem that's been tugging at her, still finds that she has no satisfactory solutions. Even though it's been on her mind for over a week, filling all the nooks and crannies of her mostly-healed head.

By the time she's slowed to a cool down walking pace Jane's decided that she needs some advice on her situation, someone to give her a critical outside perspective. Quickly she goes through her options, realizes that her teammates are not the best resources for relationship questions. Which really just left one option, thankfully one in the right time zone for a call at that hour.

Jane pulls her phone out of her running waist belt, one of her concessions to Weller's worry. Dials the number and waits as the call goes through.

Allie picks up on the first ring, sounds concerned as she answers.

"Hey Jane," she says. "What's going on? Is Kurt alright?"

"Hi Allie. Don't worry, nothing's happened. Kurt's fine," Jane replies.

She pauses for a moment, unsure how to continue. She had always gotten along great with Allie, admired her a lot. But they didn't talk a lot about her relationship with Kurt and suddenly Jane thinks this is a bad idea.

Still, she had to say something. So Jane goes with her gut, lets her worries slip through.

"I mean, physically he's fine," she adds, chewing on her lower lip. "But I know I hurt him with a lot of the things I said."

"Jane, you had a head injury," Allie says. "From what Kurt told me, you were both lucky that it wasn't worse."

Jane groans, annoyed that everyone seems to want to let her off the hook for everything she did. Yet another depressing pattern in her life.

"That doesn't make me feel any better about it," she says. "I want to make it up to him somehow or at least let him know how much I appreciate him. But I can't come up with anything that even comes close to saying how much he means to me. What do you think I should do?"

"Well, if this was me and Kurt's relationship, we'd get wasted and I'd fuck his brains out," Allie replies with a laugh. "But you and Kurt have a different dynamic. He's just so relieved that you're okay, I don't know what else he could want."

"That doesn't help me, Allie," Jane groans. "There must be something I can do for him."

"Oh, I'm sure he could come up with a lot of things you could do for him," Allie says slyly. "But we both know Kurt doesn't expect appreciation. The way he grew up, he even has a hard time accepting it. So whatever you do, it will be more than enough for him."

Jane sighs, annoyed and saddened by the truth. He deserves so much he's never gotten, she'll never be able to show him how much she loves him. But it doesn't mean she won't try, just has to figure out what to do.

She hangs up with Allie, tries to put all her guilty thoughts out of her mind before she sees Weller. He is so sensitive to her moods, in the most endearingly irritating way.

Jane returns to the apartment, showers, and dresses for work. She feels Kurt's eyes all over her as she pours a to go coffee, turns and gives him a questioning look.

"I am so lucky," he grins, in reply to her silent question.

No, Jane thinks, mentally wincing. I'm the lucky one.

But she knows better than to argue with him when he's in this mood, just smiles and shakes her head at him in mock exasperation.

Kurt's grin broadens at her response and he lifts his arm in an open invitation, wraps it around her shoulders as she accepts his offer, snuggles in against him as they head out the door. He makes her feel so adored, protected. She wants to do the same for him, just doesn't know how.

Jane keeps thinking about it all the way to the NYO, through all the morning briefings and a team meeting. Trying not to stare at Kurt while she tries to gather invisible intel, something to tell her what to do.

It gets to a point where her brain feels too full again and she can feel a headache coming on. Although most of her symptoms were under control, stress did still sometimes lead to recurrences. Which just made her feel dumber about the whole thing. Worrying so much about showing him her appreciation that it was making her head worse again.

At the moment she's stirring in this stew of emotion while sitting with Rich and Patterson, half-listening to them argue about the provenance of an obscure dark web delivery service only tangentially related to the case they were investigating.

"Everyone knows that Licorice Black started doing illegal arms shipments as early as the 1990's," Rich says, in his annoying pedantic voice. "But not everyone knows that my old friend Lic was into human trafficking too. Anyone looking for a sex slave or even a whole harem, he was your man. Not that I have any first hand knowledge of any of this, of course. Although that cabana boy he sent me that time at his pool might have been a bribe of sorts, I never really got into it with him…"

"Rich, will you shut up!" Jane snaps, the words out of her mouth before she even realizes it. "No one cares about the goddamned cabana boy."

Incredibly Rich actually stops talking for a moment, looks at Jane with surprised faux-hurt.

"Whoa, Jane," he says. "What the heck has got you so riled? It's kinda hot, but definitely scary."

Jane rolls her eyes, considers just removing herself from the situation. Of all the people she could consult about her problem, Rich was at the bottom of her list. But the weight of it is so heavy in her mind that she feels the words start to slip through, seemingly without her own permission.

"I need to do something special for Kurt," she hears herself saying. "Something to show him how much I appreciate him."

Rich gives her a confused look, a studied eye.

"Other than fucking him until he can't think?" he asks, sounding genuinely bewildered.

Jane groans, sighs loudly. Glares at Rich.

"What?" he asks, raising his hands defensively. "Come on, you had to know that was what I was going to say."

"Uh, yeah," Patterson adds. "That was definitely what he was going to say. And, I hate to say it, but in this case, he's probably right."

Jane shakes her head, exhales irritably.

"No, it's not that," she mutters. "Allie just basically said the same thing."

"See!" Rich exclaims proudly. "I knew it. If Ms. no screwing around US Marshall thinks you should be screwing your main man then it's obviously the right advice. And you know I always have your best intentions in mind, Jane. You and Weller are my OTP, I worship the ground you walk on."

Jane groans again, resists the urge to slam her head against the desk. It had been stupid to say anything about it to Rich, that was her own fault.

"Forget it," she says through clenched teeth. "I'll figure it out on my own."

She gets up and walks away to Rich still pleading in the background, begging to be put to use as a relationship muse. Jane shakes her head again, tries to ignore the stuffy feeling in her brain.

It should feel reassuring that everyone thinks Weller just wants her but Jane is somehow still sure that it's not enough. Sex with Kurt had been such a pleasurable component of her recovery, ever since she stopped feeling nauseous whenever her heart rate rose. Working out with him in bed, fucking him senseless, that was a regular joy, not a token of appreciation.

No, she was going to have to do better, Jane tells herself. Figure out some way to really tell him how much she loves him.

Though she has to admit her friends are probably right about how the night will end.

###

Weller is doing his best not to let the ever present tendrils of worry take over before he knows all the facts. But he's been low key flipping out since Jane left work early to run some undefined errands. Hates that he wanted to question her further when she didn't elaborate, that he is so torn by anxiety about her.

It's not that he's suspicious of Jane. He's just afraid for her. The way her moods had swung for the first few weeks of her injury, he was terrified of the bleakness he saw in her at times. It reminded him of how depressed and anxious she had been after getting all her memories back. Which had made him feel so incredibly powerless, all over again. Watching her suffer and being unable to do anything to ease her pain.

He had felt much the same during her recent recovery, trying to do his best to keep her spirits up while barely keeping his own head above water. She had pushed too hard of course, she wouldn't be Jane if she hadn't. Which he loved and hated all at once. And he'd barely been able to keep it all contained; his emotions, her frustrations. His injured wrecking ball of a wife.

As he walks up to the door Weller tells himself that her symptoms had mostly been gone for a week now, that she's seemed to be in good spirits most of that time. But he knows she would be resistant to telling him if her low moods were still appearing, that her inclination would be to hunker down and deal with it on her own.

It hurts that she hides her wounds, even though he understands why. As much as she loves and trusts him, it takes a lot to counteract a lifetime of learned behaviours. So all he can do is love her too much, hope that it's enough.

Kurt opens the door to their apartment, his heart in his throat. Steps in and looks at Jane in surprise.

She's busy in the kitchen with something that smells decidedly non-vegan, looks up at him with a shy smile when she hears the door.

Weller gives her a huge grin as he approaches, asking a question with his eyes.

"I'm making you a steak," Jane says. "Just the way you like it."

He has a flash of déjà vu, is about to reach for her when he is distracted by a tray on the counter.

"Are those vegan brownies?" he asks, his eyes fixated on the chocolate for a moment before turning back to his wife.

Jane is laughing at him by the time he refocuses on her, gets back to his proper line.

"Uh. Have I told you that I love you?" he asks, wearing his goofiest most adoring look.

Jane's eyes glimmer with emotion as she wraps her arms around his neck, clearly remembers her role in the scene.

"Not for a few hours," she whispers.

"Can I tell you again?" he asks, suddenly realizing that her mood is shifting.

He doesn't wait for her reply, starts running his lips up her neck, along her jaw.

"I love you," he says, between kisses. "I love you, I love you."

Jane loosens against him as he reminds her of the obvious, how much he adores her. He buries his face in her hair, breathes her in.

"So what's the special occasion?" he asks, right up against her ear. He's been doing all the cooking since she was injured, trying to take as much off her load as possible. Also, she dislikes baking, rarely makes the brownies.

He feels her exhale a breath, somehow bury herself into him further.

"I'm sorry I couldn't think of anything better," she mumbles into his shirt. "And no one else was any help at all."

Whoa. The apology makes his stomach curdle, a frown snap onto his face. He had thought they were done with this, Jane feeling down on herself. He was certainly over it; the way it eats away at his soul.

"Jane, this is perfect," he replies, taking her head in between his hands and tilting her eyes up to meet his. "Steak. Chocolate. You. What else could I want?"

That flips a corner of her mouth upward, puts a tiny twinkle in her eye.

"I guess I do know you best," she muses, the tension starting to drift from her body.

"Of course you do," Kurt says. "But what's this all for?"

Jane pauses, bites down on her lower lip. He resists the urge to kiss away her apprehension, gives her time to put her words into order.

"I just wanted to thank you Kurt," she finally says, so sincerely it stings. "For taking care of me."

"You don't have to thank me, Jane," Kurt replies immediately. "I'm your husband, that's what I'm here for."

He looks at her in his arms, the little furrow of disagreement in her forehead. His chest is bursting with thankfulness of his own, pure joy at having his wife back after a serious head injury that could have left permanent damage. He had read a lot about post concussion syndrome lately and it all scared the shit out of him. Stories of partners that became different people, full of anger and depression. He knew he would always love Jane, no matter what. But he had been terrified that it wasn't enough, especially in those times she seemed so determined to hate herself.

Anything else didn't matter at all to him. All of the arguing, the angry tears. Yes, he had been upset a lot in the month since she was injured. But he'd been upset with the situation, or with his own inability to handle things. Not with her.

But Jane seems to feel differently, is clearly still holding onto some sort of regret. Which isn't all that surprising considering she's always had a skewed sense of her own behaviour during that time, held herself strictly accountable for every emotional outburst. But still, Kurt's disappointed. He thought he'd talked her out of it, had told her countless times that he's already forgiven anything that she thinks she did wrong. And yet she's still apologizing, has obviously been carrying it with her all this time.

"Yes I do," Jane argues predictably. "I remember, Kurt. I remember how terrible I was to you, how understanding you were about everything. It was weeks of me yelling at you, then bursting into tears. So thank you. For being so patient and loving when I kept trying to hurt you, push you away."

Well, maybe he didn't deserve the thanks but Weller has to admit it feels good to hear her say it, to know that she appreciated his efforts. Yet it also leaves a distaste in him, a realization that there are still some demons to be exorcised.

"Is that really how you remember things?" he asks, annoyed with himself for not realizing that she still felt so strongly about it.

Jane furrows her brow at him again, nods her head in his hands.

"Because I remember you hurting so much. And me not knowing what to do to help you," he says, spilling his own truth. "I was flailing, Jane. But that was my own fault."

The look she gives him is wide-eyed, flecked with surprise. Weller realizes he had never brought up any of his own insecurities while she'd been recovering, knew she would just take it upon herself even more. But he wonders how she could have missed the fact that he had been doing a less than superb job of taking care of her.

"You were perfect, Kurt," she says with a shine in her eyes. "Please believe that."

"Only if you'll believe that none of this is your fault," he counters, determined to push through her stubbornness for once. "And stop apologizing for any of it. It breaks my heart, Jane. When you're so sorry for things that weren't within your control; when you're so goddamned hard on yourself."

"But I am still sorry for all of it," she replies, irritation flashing through her body.

Weller laughs. He knew it wouldn't be that easy, not when it came to Jane.

"I know," he says, shaking his head at her with a satisfied grin. "You are so ridiculous. And absolutely the best."

"Oh and you made me steak and brownies. Did I tell you how much I love you?"

Jane stays huddled into him for a long moment, wavering between moods. He knows the instant she decides to let go, feels the tension flow out of her body. She looks up at him, her eyes bright with a heady mix of intimate comfort, growing arousal.

"Tell me again," she says, a sly smile sliding in.

So of course he does. Over and over with his mouth on her skin, his voice in her ear. Until dinner is postponed by his favourite kind of impromptu workout, all his needless worry ecstatically released as he loses himself in her touch.

Afterwards, still gloriously naked, she brings him a pre-dinner brownie, makes him wonder what the hell he had ever done to deserve this. Taking care of Jane is a privilege, one he would never give up voluntarily. His reward for all the hard days and heartache was seeing her healed, knowing he'd been there when she needed him. Oh and there was the sex too, that in itself was more than enough for him.

But Jane is sitting in his lap on the floor, covered in only ink as she feeds him a brownie, still warm from the oven. So even though he's not used to accepting appreciation, Weller is not going to question what's going on. Just wraps himself around her, plants a chocolaty kiss on her upswept curve of her lips.

"Thank you," he hums against her throat. "You didn't have to do this. But you've made me feel so appreciated."

Jane brings her hands up to frame his face, leans him back and gives him her most adoring eyes, that look that melts him entirely.

"That's exactly why I had to do it," she says. "You've been so patient, Kurt. I don't know what I would do without you."

Her words and the sincerity of her tone soothe his deepest aches, while the look in her eye makes an easy dopey grin fall across his face.

"You don't need to worry about that, Jane," he says. "I'm always going to be here for you."


End file.
